Saturdays

I like Saturdays. Not just because it's a day off, but mostly because of my son. He's three, soon to be four, and Saturdays are our day. While my wife and daughter go off to do the grocery shopping with a friend, I take my son around town. We have a set pattern that we have grown comfortable with.

First, we hit the Farmers' Market. It's a small, but diverse affair in the middle of town. Most often, I'm either looking for a good dinner vegetable or accent, or we're getting some pretty good fruit. Last week, we snagged some wonderful peaches that Mrs. Hobo used in a cobbler. Don't care for them myslef, but I have to admit that what I had was very good. There are some excellent vendors with jams, jellies, and honey, and we spend a decent amount of time wandering about.

Following that, we walk a few blocks to the local bookstore. There are two independent bookstores in town: The odd-smelling, used bookstore frequented by people who like to think they are young radicals, and the good one. I mean good. It's not a rare book shop, but the owner's hobby is tracking down anything someone asks for. A few years back, he showed me a book he'd been looking for for two years. It was a book that had been out-of-print for probably forty of fifty years, and the only edition he could find was a compact copy printed for overseas soldiers in WWII. Even so, he found it for his customer. That's what I want out of a shop. Who gives a crap about 20% off with that kind of dedication at your disposal? In any case, we browse for a while, and the youngling plays with the three shop cats. I usually buy something, just to do my part to keep the place open.

From there, it's time for lunch. I tried to alter this part of the routine once or twice, and found that such ideas do not go over well with my target audience. So, we walk another block to what is probably one of the better sandwich shops in the state. Great bread, homestyle soups, and ice cream made on the premises for their own recipes. This isn't fast food, and on a busy day we've had to wait upwards of twenty minutes for a couple of sandwiches, but it is an incredible value in food and time spent with my son. He loves this place. He loves the pickles, and the seats, and the building (which is in a "historical" part of downtown), but mostly he just likes to sit and talk. I love it,too. At the end of a long workday, listening to a small child chatter is not necessarily the most enjoyable thing in the world. On a wide-open day, where you're out together, it's the whole point.

From there, we drive down the road a bit to the comic shop, where I check my box for the week, and pick up something for the kid if his behavior has been decent (there's a high threshold on that requirement -- I think he's passed it once). From there, it's time to head home, because we've both been out walking and talking for a few hours, being father and son. We both need a nap. It's a very satisfying one, too.

Ah, Summer

The AC at work is broken, and the normal temp around here is a nice, humid 100 degrees. Crush that together with steam-jacketed mixing tanks, an extra layer of clothing, and no air movement, and you've got a recipie for the "Who Falls Out First" charity raffle and betting pool. It's not as bad as it used to be though. A couple of years back, I walked into the batching room at six AM, and there was a cloud. Not a cloud of dust, or just a lot of mist; it was a freakin' cloud. You couldn't see the room from one side to the other.

Anyway, the highlights of this week are: Daughter has been accepted to wacky religious nutjob daycare. Now, you might think this slightly insane, if you bother to browse the links to the right, but options are limited around here. We wanted a top preschool. The only decent preschools in the area are religious. Bah. Bah, Bah, Bah. I have examined the curriculum, however, and it doesn't get really loopy until a few years down the road, by which time my kids will be in real school and not attending this place. The other "plus" is that, while my daughter is now gone from my mother-in-law's smoke-choked pit, I get the privilege of shelling out an additional $100 a week for this boon. Sigh. At least my review is coming up, and my raise should cover about half that. Overtime, here I come (at least until the boy hits kindergarden next year).

My other happy this week came in the form of a lot of loose gems that I won at auction. I got 20 carats worth of peridot, amethyst, garnet, and silver topaz. That, along with some other items I already had, filled out a row in the display case I got for my birthday. Yay!

Perhaps a philosophical post next time.